Sometimes my job takes me on the road. For seven or eight months a year, I travel wherever the Utah Jazz go. I’m kind of like a groupie. Only I write stories about NBA players for a newspaper and get paid instead of hitchhiking, partying and throwing my bras at these celebrities. I should add that my professional stalking doesn’t include parts of their lives spent in Cabo or southern France. But this week it did take me to a destination that sounds just as glamorous and fun: an airport parking lot. And then to Los Angeles.
In retrospect, the airport parking lot might’ve been the highlight. [Read more…]